


Finer Qualities

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's shore-leave.  Jim has certain expectations it takes both his boyfriends to realise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finer Qualities

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a postage stamp for my first 2012 [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card, to hit the kinks "oral fixation", "leather latex rubber", "humiliation (verbal)" [as my wildcard], and "exposure/exhibitionism". With bonus spanking.

 

One of the benefits of having a Vulcan boyfriend, Jim discovers, is being able to announce his intention to go enjoy the nightlife on this wonderful shore-leave destination of theirs wearing nothing but a string thong and leather chaps, and not even raise an eyebrow. Well, okay, an eyebrow _is_ raised, but you know what he means. That’s all the reaction that greets this news. There’s no horror or disapproval, not even a prosaic expression of concern that he might get kinda cold out there in the night. It's awesome.

It’s disappointing, Jim finds, after half an hour being stared at by all manner of gorgeous people with Spock beside him seeing it all and remaining _completely unruffled_. Did he say disappointing? He meant frustrating. It’s frustrating. He wanted to work up some sexual tension on both sides here so they could go at it like greedy lusty animals when they got back to their hotel room. From the way Spock’s behaving, Jim isn’t going to get more than the standard gentle thoughtful skilful fucking selfless _lovemaking_ from Spock tonight. Which is okay, it’s fine, it’s lovely… but it’s not what he wants _every_ time, you know? Sex can get a little samey when it’s just the two of them.

So it’s very, very fortunate Jim has another boyfriend up his sleeve. Well, on the other end of a communicator call up to the ship. Even as he thinks this, his hand is freeing his communicator from his belt, flicking it open, waiting for the clicks.

“Kirk to McCoy.”

There’s a pause. Then an indistinct grumble that is most definitely Bones.

“Bones?”

“Damn it, Jim, I’m sleeping. It’s shore-leave.”

“And we’re ashore. Where are you?”

“You got some kind of medical emergency down there or something?”

“Nope. But you remember those chaps I bought back on Altair? I’m wearing them, and a couple pieces of string, and that’s it. And I’m out in public. Lots of people are looking at me, and Spock keeps on being _completely impassive_ , and this is so completely intolerable that I’m thinking about doing something really, really—”

“I’m on my way,” Bones says. “Keep your pants on.” There’s a click as the channel closes.

Jim smiles serenely at Spock. “You want to be the filling in the sexy sandwich, or shall I?”

“I was under the impression you wished to dance in one of these establishments.” He raises an arm to encompass the long strip of nightclubs they’ve wandered past so far.

“I just want hot kinky sex, Spock. If it needs both of you to give it to me, so be it.”

“I see. In that case, we should return to our place of accommodation. Doctor McCoy will no doubt be waiting for us, and—if I know him at all—in a somewhat disagreeable mood which will not be improved by delay.”

Jim smiles, turns, links his arm with Spock’s and draws him back the way they came. He makes sure to put some extra sass in his ass, some extra jiggle in his wiggle, for the free entertainment of all (he’s a generous guy). His chaps pull at him in odd ways and odd places, reminding him that they aren’t yet properly broken in. He may have to do something about that. Possibly involving athletic sex. Most of his plans seem to involve athletic sex just lately. Huh, guess he really was overdue for this shore-leave.

“When we get back to the room,” he offers conversationally, “do you know what I’m going to do?”

“I do not. Though the statistical likelihood is that you will ask that I permit you to—”

“Suck your great big Vulcan cock until you come in my clever, clever mouth.”

“—perform the act of fellatio upon my person,” Spock completes gravely. “Then you will most likely propose some form of three-person sex act in which Doctor McCoy insulting you features prominently.”

“Well, he _does_ sound so sexy, with that accent…”

“There is a point four two probability that, assuming the aforementioned acts proceed satisfactorily, you will subsequently request that I demonstrate my ‘freaky Vulcan stamina’ by achieving penile erection once more in order to penetrate your anus with some vigour.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Jim sighs.

Based no doubt on his extensive empirical observation, Spock seems inclined to agree with this assessment.

“Goddamn exhibitionist,” McCoy tuts, when he spots them entering the hotel lobby. “You trying to put all those honest hard-working Deltan strippers out of business?”

“That would be mean,” Jim says, waving a scolding finger, “when I have to warp away again in three days’ time. I can’t leave the good folks here without some form of erotic entertainment, can I? But I think the strippers will cope. I mean, no one who saw me is ever going to forget, so they’re going to have a hard time making do with just your ordinary quality of handsome stripper dude. But really, not _that_ many people saw me.”

“Your person and state of attire were observed by approximately—”

“Yeah, Spock, we know you know,” Bones complains. “Now show me to our room before one of Jim’s buttocks freezes off and I have to perform delicate micro surgery on two hours’ sleep while I’m supposed to be resting and recuperating.”

Jim can almost feel the frustrated vibrations as Spock forcibly withholds his comments on the illogic of that statement. “Certainly, Doctor,” is what he finally says, and gestures for them both to follow him as he makes for the nearest bank of turbolifts.

Being found so predictable is kinda irksome, Jim decides, as Spock’s keying them back into the room. So clearly Spock-cock-sucking is off the menu. Or at least, it’s no longer the starter. What can he dem—er, request instead? He ponders. Briefly.

“Bones?” Jim attempts to effect contrition. “I’ve been naughty. I think I deserve a spanking, don’t you?” He bats his eyelashes hopefully.

Bones makes an exasperated noise and starts hauling off his uniform tunic—which, Jim notes, he has on backwards—over his head. “Infant,” he mutters, but he sounds fond.

“If my assistance is not required,” Spock begins, “I have work—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jim tells him. “Someone has to hold me still so I don’t escape!”

Spock gives him a look as if to say _if you want the spanking, why would you try to escape it?_ There are some things it seems Spock will never understand. But, hey, that’s part of why Jim loves him, right? That and the profound sexiness. And the frequent lifesaving. And the witticisms and general genius. And the sensationally suck-worthy Vulcan trouser-snake that makes his mouth water just thinking about it. But not the lyre-playing, never the lyre-playing. Lyre-playing is one of those things that long-suffering spouses just have to grin and bear.

“I’m going to keep the chaps on,” Jim explains, just so they’re clear. He strokes his hands over the warm, comforting leather. Bones pauses in the act of neatly folding his uniform pants to give him the Bonesy-double-brow. It’s decidedly sexy when delivered by a Bones who is wearing only close-fitting cotton boxers.

“Do I have to tell you you’re a very naughty boy, and so on?” Bones asks resignedly, taking a seat on the nearest bed.

Jim prances across the room to throw himself over his lover’s lap. “You don’t _have_ to. But we’ll both feel so much better if you do. Besides, it’s demonstrably true, right?” And he twists sideways to bite a hairy Bonesy thigh for emphasis.

The first slap is all noise and sting, and Jim jerks at the shock of it. Then he remembers what’s going on, wriggles further forward on Bones’s lap so he can lean half on the bed and get a little dick stimulation against a Bonesy leg.

Spock enters the picture then, lifting Jim’s torso easily so he can perch beside Bones and support Jim’s upper half on his own lap. Jim writhes joyfully, gasps at the second smack to his poor beautiful left butt cheek. His dick is totally sitting up and taking notice.

“You’re such a flagrant, irresponsible, incorrigible tease,” Bones complains, punctuating with another blow that makes Jim clench his butt reflexively. “Swanning about not even half-dressed.” Smack. Gasp. “That’s a _fine_ look for a Starfleet captain.” Smack. Jim whimpers. He’s liking the sound of this.

“Indeed,” Spock puts in. “Admiral Pike would be most displeased, if he were informed.”

Spock’s contributions to this sort of game can be somewhat… variable in quality and usefulness, but this one Bones seizes on right away. “He’s right, Jim. Spock’s such a good little officer that he’ll probably report you, if you don’t do something to persuade him out of it.” Another slap, then a hard rub of knuckles over the abused flesh. “What do you think that could be?”

Jim shudders at the sudden image of Pike seeing him like this, all dignified and disapproving in his dress uniform with all the medals. And Spock would be all, _It is regrettable that you had to see this, Admiral, but given the high rank of the officer involved…_

“I could suck his—” Jim begins, but then recalls that he’s trying not to be predictable. “Uh, I could eat out his ass. He’d like that.”

“At minimum, such a novel experience would have to be interesting,” Spock agrees. He runs a hand through Jim’s hair, tentative at first, then more… proprietary. Jim shivers. He has a strong and clever tongue, he’s pretty sure he could get Spock to lose control and moan a little if he used it right.

“That sounds moderately persuasive,” Bones murmurs. “But I might get bored while you were doing that, and then _I_ might have to report you.”

Jim chews over this one during the next four slaps. His bum is starting to complain about the ongoing mistreatment. He’d suggest that Bones fuck him while he’s rimming Spock, but it seems like the physical impact of that would cause repeated unwanted collisions of his awesome Jimly nose with various soft and sensitive parts of Spock. Also, predictable.

“Okay,” Jim suggests, and then is briefly derailed by a _really_ hard smack to the buttock whose turn it was not supposed to be. “How about this. You get to suck his big Vulcan monster—” he rubs his cheek against Spock’s friendly uniform-concealed package. It’s a wrench, giving up the chance to get some Spocky Cocky in his mouth, but he’ll have to content himself with sending his tongue where no man has gone before “—then you pull off and let him come all over your chest. Then I lick you clean like a good boy. Then you make me ride you like a cowboy—I’m already dressed for it—and if I don’t come from just that, I don’t get to come.”

Bones’s breath catches, and his next slap is both somewhat feeble and slightly tardy.

Jim listens carefully to the thrumming, restrained-energy quality of the silence in the room.

“So, I think that plan works for everyone,” he says smugly.

“Goddamn pervert,” Bones scolds, but it’s at least half compliment.

“I know,” Jim sighs. “It’s one of my finer qualities.”

 

***END***


End file.
